Earth Angel
by The Red Celt
Summary: Fill for the kinkmeme: It's mid-1950s or so, and FemShep is unexpectedly visited one night by an alien invader, which just happens to be Garrus on a recon mission. Garrus is so intrigued that they develop a secret adorable and provocative relationship. Rated M for adult-type stuff in chapter 3 and language.
1. Chapter 1

Jane Shepard bolted upright, all sleepiness falling away as the shockwave rattled the foundations of her house. She jumped out of bed muttering, "I swear to god, if the cops are here again I'm gonna send them all home with lead in their asses." It wouldn't be the first time the local fuzz had busted her (an occupational hazard that those who made illegal moonshine occasionally had to endure), but they usually waited until most decent people had had a chance to get breakfast. This, though—this was different and a part of her recognized that even as she shook the last of the sleep-daze from her brain. She went to the window and pulled aside the drapes just enough to peek out into the darkened yard. Nothing stood out at first, but then she saw smoke rising from just behind the tree line.

"Oh, hell," she swore, tugging a robe on over her short cotton nightgown. At the door she put on an old pair of brown leather work boots and grabbed the shotgun and a flashlight from the foyer closet. After cracking it open to see that it was loaded and ready, she ventured out into the cool night air. The ground mist curled around her legs and parted in smoky waves behind her as she made her way over the dew-covered grass toward the woods that edged her property. Autumn came late to this part of the country and she spared a passing thought for the harvest and the money she'd have to shell out to the hired hands soon. She plunged into the shadows of the tall oaks and maples and waded through the undergrowth, heading toward the flickering orange light of a fire a few dozen yards up ahead. She held the shotgun by her hip, hoping she wouldn't have to use it.

When she reached the source of the fire, at first her mind couldn't make heads or tails of it. Slowly, though, the shapes started to coalesce into something that made even less sense. There was a large structure that gleamed in the shaky beam of her flashlight; it was maybe fifteen feet high and stuck out of the ground at about a 45 degree angle. Behind and to the left of the strange metal thing was a long path of destruction—uprooted saplings, broken branches, a raw deep furrow carved in the forest floor. It was nothing short of a miracle that the thing hadn't crashed into a tree.

Wait, crashed? Was that what this was, a wrecked plane? It certainly didn't look like any kind of plane she'd ever seen before; the hull (if that's what it was) was curved strangely and looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Shepard went around to what she figured was the front and saw that the structure was hanging open and askew on twisted hinges. She trained the beam of her flashlight into the shadowy interior and had to bite back a scream at what she saw there.

Whatever the thing was, it definitely wasn't human. It was gray and covered in skin (for lack of a better word) that had a slightly metallic gleam to it. Its head lolled to one side and she could just see the long wicked-looking spikes that stuck straight off the back of its head. There was a blue glowing eyepatch-thing covering one eye and what might have been pincers like an insect on either side of its mouth. Everything from the neck down was covered in thick blue metal armor. By all rights, it should have scared the living hell out of her but she found herself creeping closer, her heart pounding, her mouth dry as a bone. She crouched down to get a better look, certain that it had been killed in the crash. For all the features that absolutely screamed _alien_, there was no doubt it was humanoid in shape.

_A real alien!_ she thought. _There's an alien ship with an honest-to-god alien in it in my woods! _ She was vaguely aware that this was not the typical reaction someone should have to a spiky metallic alien from space, but she had grown up on comic books and sci-fi double features much to her parent's chagrin. Bless them, they had tried so hard to get her to fit into the stereotypical "girl" role, but she had made a career out of rebelling against the mold. Her brother John had had a hand in that, too, ensuring that she'd grow up a tomboy. He was always dragging her into the barn to try out the new rope swing he'd set up, or going drag racing with his friends in the middle of the night (those same friends had introduced her to her first liquor at the age of twelve). When he'd volunteered to fight the Germans, she had joined up with her fellow Rosie the Riveters to help out the war effort and had been right at home wearing pants and machining parts for tanks. As soon as he'd gotten back from Europe, John had immediately bought a few acres of land and built a house and barn on it, and he'd insisted that she live there with him. She had jumped at the chance, and after a few years of making an honest farm living they'd started up an illegal distillery in the barn to supplement their income. She wished he was here now to see this—he'd have gotten a huge kick out of it—but he had to go into town for a few days to scare up enough workers to help out with the corn and barley crop.

Shepard had unconsciously leaned forward and braced her hand against the smooth metal of the ship's hull, mere feet away from the alien, when its eyes flew open and it gasped. She flung herself backward too fast and overbalanced, landing on her butt and scrambling back with the shotgun clamped in her white-knuckled fist. The alien started to climb out of the cockpit and she saw how _big_ it was, all hard edges and metal over its tall predatory form. Shepard's retreat was stopped by a tree and she pressed her back into it, aiming her shotgun at the emerging alien.

It took a few seconds to check itself over for major injuries and she shifted the gun a little higher. Its head whipped around at the movement and its blazing blue eyes locked on her, taking in both her and the gun in one quick glance. Shepard was amazed when it slowly raised its hands and started making the strangest noises she had ever heard—chirruping sounds of various tones and pitches, clicking with its pincer-things, guttural growls and long vowel sounds interspersed with trilling, and its voice was laced with a deep underlying sub-harmonic. Shepard realized after a few seconds that it was trying to talk to her. The alien stayed well back from her, keeping its hands up where she could see them, and the bass notes in its voice were strangely soothing. There was something in it eyes, too . . . something gentle and completely at odds with its menacing outward appearance.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," she said, very proud of herself for keeping her voice steady and even.

The alien sighed rolled its eyes up as if to ask the sky what to do. It was such a . . . _human_ thing to do that she started to let down her guard in spite of the voice in the back of her head insisting that the thing was going to kill and eat her at any moment. It pointed to its chest and said, enunciating carefully, "Garrus." At least she thought that was what it said; the way it said it was 'Guh-_click_-arrus' with a soft click of its mandibles.

Shepard pointed at him, her hand trembling only slightly, and repeated him (she was pretty sure it was a him; there was something universally masculine about him). "Garrus." He nodded and his pincers flared out to reveal a wicked set of pointed teeth. _Oh my god, is he _smiling _at me? _She touched her chest and said, "Jane Shepard."

He looked confused at first, trying to figure out how to form her name with his mouth. "Gah . . . Zhayne Keh . . . Kyeppard." Shepard nodded and smiled at him. He repeated it again a little more clearly and pointed at her, the excitement showing on his face. She laughed out loud and lowered the shotgun, the absolute craziness of the night's events making her giddy, and he trilled at her in a way that sounded like he was laughing, too.

"Close enough, big guy." She stood up, brushing the worst of the dirt off her butt (lamenting the stains; she'd have to soak the robe forever to get them out). Garrus dropped his hands to his sides and relaxed a bit; it was clear he still didn't really know what to do when confronted with small armed humans in the woods at night. Well, tonight was definitely a night for firsts. He gestured to his ship and tried to convey a question to her and she nodded, not entirely sure what she was giving him permission to do. He bent over the open cockpit and rummaged around for a minute, taking out small packages of unrecognizable stuff and making a small pile of salvage at his feet. He took out a small oblong metal box with glowing symbols on it and turned it over in his hands, sighing dejectedly.

The last thing he drew out of the cockpit gave her pause—the rifle was huge and sleek, the matte surface painted with strange symbols along the side. Her new buddy attached it to his back and began packing the pile of stuff into a gunny sack. He slung the strap over his shoulder and smiled at her before waving and heading off into the woods.

"Hey! No, wait!" Shepard called and he turned back around, a question in his eyes. "Um, you could come with me." She pointed to him, then herself, then off toward her house. Garrus looked surprised, but after a few moments' consideration he gestured in the direction she was pointing. _Lead the way._ They walked together, still maintaining a little more distance than necessary, out of the woods and the alien beside her chirruped when he saw her house in the middle of the well-kept yard.

_Jane Shepard, you're insane. You're not seriously considering bringing a creature from another planet that looks made to rip people apart to stay in your house, are you?_ No, she answered the small voice of reason that still managed to make itself heard even after all she'd done over the years to silence it. No, she was not considering it—she had already decided. Maybe it was her fascination with the unknown, or the thrill of meeting a real live alien, or some death wish she didn't know she had, but she had to admit that it was at least partially because his blue eyes were so expressive and calm. He didn't seem like he wanted to hurt her and her instincts told her that this alien, no matter what he looked like, was probably not intent on a hostile invasion.

She made a stop at the water pump to fill a bucket and carried it up the five steps to the wide wraparound porch. When she started shifting around the flashlight and shotgun to free one of her hands, Garrus reached past her and opened the door for her. She noticed that he had only three fingers and it looked like they were tipped with short, curved talons but he was wearing black gloves under his gauntlets so she couldn't be sure. She kicked off her boots and, after a long pause during which she decided that if he was going to kill her he'd have done it by now and buckshot probably wouldn't penetrate his armor anyway, put the shotgun back in the closet. When she turned around Garrus was still outside on the porch scraping the dirt from the bottoms of his boots with the shoe brush. It was such a small gesture of consideration, but he earned a lot of points with her for it.

While the Shepard homestead was firmly in the Virginia countryside, it was close enough to Richmond for them to have electricity; a luxury not many farm houses had yet further out from the city. She turned on the lamps in the living room, the shadows retreating into the corners of the high ceilings and pooled under the furniture. There were two couches facing each other with a coffee table in between, two armchairs flanking the wide doorway, a bookcase full to overflowing with paperbacks and comic books, and a curio cabinet with a set of nice china dishes from her mother. She led Garrus into the room and he sat down on the couch, dropping the gunny sack on the floor next to him. Shepard carried the bucket of water into the kitchen and fired up the stove to boil some water for tea. As she set about the mundane task of fetching mugs and teabags, her mind began to supply her with all the reasons she absolutely should not have a god damned space alien in her house.

_That crash was loud enough to wake you out of a dead sleep, surely someone must have heard it?_ There wasn't another house for two miles in any direction; any sound that managed to carry that far could easily be explained away as thunder or something.

_What are you going to do about the flaming space ship in the woods?_ Well, first of all the fire had gone out by the time they'd left it, and actually that was the easy part of this little adventure. She could go out in the morning and tow it into the barn, cover it with a tarp, and it would blend right in with the scenery. Unless someone got curious, it would look like just another covered piece of machinery.

_What if the police try to shut down the still again and see him? What if the hired hands see him?_ That was going to be the most problematic part of this situation. Shepard had no illusions about what the general public's reaction would be to proof of alien life, and it wouldn't be pretty. These days _people_ had a hard enough time dealing with people of different colors, let alone an entirely different species. She had heard of a place in Nevada called Area 51 that was rumored to have found a UFO and was into all sorts of experiments and research about aliens. If the authorities got wind of what had happened here, things could go south really quickly. But, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

There was no point in worrying about the future quite yet, though, so she shoved all her doubts aside and carried the tea out to the living room. Garrus had appropriated the coffee table for a workstation and the box he'd retrieved from the ship was disassembled and its guts spread over the dark wood. She offered him a cup and he took it, sniffing experimentally. He hummed appreciatively, but set the mug aside without tasting it. _Maybe he doesn't like people-food,_ she thought. In that case, she hoped he had rations or something in that sack of his.

Suddenly his left forearm lit up with bright orange light and Shepard nearly dropped her tea in surprise. It was some sort of translucent glove made of light with a screen that hovered in midair a few inches over the glowing gauntlet. Alien characters scrolled down the display and Garrus' fingers danced over the row of buttons on his arm (they weren't really buttons at all, though—more like he passed his talons through the orange-outlined pictures of buttons to activate them), then he waved his hand over two tiny circular things on the table. When he was done, the glove disappeared and he held up the tiny devices and looked at her, pointing first to them and then to the side of his head. Shepard shook her head, confused, and Garrus sighed. He went over and knelt down next to her, impossibly close, and her heart started trip-hammering away in her chest. In the bright light of her living room he was even more formidable and she was a little nervous about having him so close to her, no matter how sure she was that he meant her no harm. Garrus reached out slowly, giving her plenty of opportunity to run away, and when she didn't he brushed her hair away from her ear and with great care pressed one of the tiny metallic circles onto the inside of her tragus. She was struck by how warm he was; she could feel the heat radiating against her face. He turned her head so he could do the same thing on the other side, then the orange glove appeared on his arm again and he waved it in front of her face.

"Can you hear me now?" he asked, and Shepard nearly fell off the couch in shock. A huge grin broke out on her face.

"Oh my god, I can understand you!" she replied and she had to fight the urge to let out an ecstatic whoop.

"Those things in your ears are translators. They're harmless, don't worry." He went back to his spot on the couch and leaned back with a smile. "So, now that we can actually speak to each other, do you have any questions for me?"

"Only about a zillion." Her mind was whirling with the possibilities; how many chances like this was she going to get in a lifetime? "Okay, um . . . well, I guess we should start with how you got here."

"Well," he drawled with a playful smirk, "I'd have thought my ship would have made that pretty obvious."

Shepard gaped at him for half a second before busting out laughing. "Oh, heaven help us," she managed to say between attempts to catch her breath, "it's the invasion of the smart-asses!" Garrus chuckled and looked thoroughly pleased with himself for finally dispelling the last of the tension between them. "I suppose I should have asked _why_ you're here," she said when she'd calmed down.

"Well, what happens most of the time when a species becomes technologically advanced enough to begin developing the means for space travel is that species is then monitored by my people and by the other races in the galactic Council. Keeping tabs, gathering intel, making sure we know as much as we can before first contact. I was here to repair a beacon in the area that had malfunctioned, but something in the engines shorted out and I crashed. Luckily I was at a low altitude when the malfunction occurred or else I'd have been nothing but a crater."

"Hang on, there's a galactic Council? How many other races are there?" Shepard was practically bouncing up and down with all the questions she wanted to bombard him with. Christmas had come early this year in the Shepard house.

Garrus called up the glowing device on his arm and fiddled with it while he spoke. "The galactic Council is made up of representatives from each member species; the asari, the salarians, and the turians. The turians are my people." An accompanying image popped up on the floating display as he listed the names of the Council member races—a beautiful blue-skinned woman with a graceful sweep of what looked like tentacles on her head; a flat-faced creature with wide eyes that looked vaguely amphibious; and an alien that resembled Garrus except for its mandibles, which were a little wider, and its facial tattoos, which were white and covered more of its face. She hadn't taken the time to look at Garrus' blue markings before but now she studied them intently, wondering if they were merely ornamental or if they meant something more.

"There are other races," he continued, "but those three are the main governing body. The Earth equivalent that you would be familiar with is your state and federal Congress. Each species governs itself, but when it comes to matters of galactic cooperation the Council steps in."

"This is . . . amazing," Shepard said, waving her empty mug around. "I mean, yesterday I was listening to 'X Minus 1', and now there's an alien in my living room. It's a little much to take in."

"Honestly, you're handling this a lot better than I could have expected. Most people would have shot me on sight or fainted, but you made me tea." He smiled at her again in that very toothy way of his, and she couldn't help but smile back. Damn if she wasn't really enjoying his company; his melodious drawl was a balm to her ears and he had a relaxed manner about him that put her at ease.

"Hey, aren't you worried about telling me all this stuff? Sharing galactic secrets and all that jazz?"

"Not really. It's not like you could do anything about it anyway; your people haven't even made it to your moon yet, let alone anywhere near the Citadel." He propped his elbows on his knees and started working on the array of electronics spread out on the coffee table. The disparity between the foreign technology and the cabbage rose patterned domesticity of her living room was striking.

"What is that thing, anyway?"

"It's supposed to transmit my location back to the main ship, but it's damaged. Not irreparable, but it's going to take some time to get it running again."

"Won't they worry if you fall out of radio contact?"

"The ship does a scan of all maintenance vessels but they were expecting to lose contact with me at least momentarily while I repaired the beacon. They'll send someone to look for me after two days, but I'm about two hundred miles out from where I'm supposed to be."

She considered the implications of this for a moment. "Anything I can do?"

"Not really. It doesn't look bad, but I need to get back to the ship for parts so I can fix the transmitter."

"We can go out in the morning; I was thinking we could put it in the barn for now until we can figure out what to do with it."

He looked up at her then and the look in his eyes was soft and unreadable. "That's a good idea, keep it away from prying eyes." He regarded her thoughtfully and she tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. "Why do you want to help me?"

Shepard stared silently into her tea as if it could give her an answer that wouldn't sound overly sentimental. "I spent a lot of time as a kid staring up at the stars, wondering if we were all alone in the universe. Now that I know we're not, I'm going to get as much out of the experience as I can. It's not like humans are going to master space travel in my lifetime; when am I gonna get another chance like this?" She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. "Besides, you seem like one of the good guys. Anything I can do to help out, just name it."

"Just being good company is enough." He cocked a grin at her before returning to his work. "Now it's my turn to ask some questions."

They talked long into the night, learning about each other. She discovered he was a recon scout with the turian military, that his favorite movie was called "The Indomitable" about the turian role in the krogan rebellions (she tried to follow along, but she might as well have taken out her translator for all the sense he made; it was fun listening to him talk about it, though), and that the tattoos on his face were actually Vakarian family clan markings. He asked her about the farm and what they grew there, what kind of music she liked, the state of the world now that the war was well and truly over. With only a few hours to go before dawn, they fell into a companionable silence. It wasn't until Garrus heard her breathing deep and rhythmically that he realized she had fallen asleep, her hair fanned out behind her on a throw pillow and her bare feet tucked up on the couch. He set down the transmitter and took the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch, shook it out, and put it over her. She stirred just long enough to pull it up under her chin and burrow into the pillow before going still again.

He sat carefully on the edge of the coffee table and watched her sleep, asking himself for the hundredth time that night what the hell he thought he was doing. Interaction with land-bound species was strictly forbidden and if anyone found out he was actually in a human's house and that he'd loaned her his spare translator he would be in deep shit. These were extenuating circumstances, though, and he thought he could explain it away to his CO; the name Vakarian still carried some weight and he was well-respected among his fellow soldiers. The thing was, if he was being completely honest, there was something inherently compelling about this unassuming human and he found himself drawn to her. He couldn't bring himself to leave just yet.

When humans had first been discovered, they were still a relatively primitive people. However, in the past century alone they had gone from horse and buggy transport to dogfighting over the Pacific. It was truly astonishing how far they'd come in just one of their lifetimes. The human race was fascinating to observe; they were the most varied species anyone had ever come in contact with. Everyone who went Earth-side had a primer on basic human behavior and physiology that they were expected to know backward and forward, but Garrus had taken it upon himself to look deeper into the emergent species' culture. They had the blood thirst of the krogan, the insatiable curiosity of the salarians, the honor and discipline of the turians, and the appreciation for beauty of the asari. They were capable of horrible things, like what happened during their Great War over a decade ago, but they also had the capacity for boundless compassion.

As intriguing as humans were to study, Garrus had never come into direct contact with one before. His instructors had expounded at great length about the dangers of falling prey to humans, all the terrible things they'd done to their own people, their tendency to shoot first and ask questions later. He would never have guessed that his first encounter would go quite like this. It was almost frightening how easy it was to talk to her, and she had a curiosity that matched or exceeded his own. When he had first laid eyes on her in the woods she was scared, sure, but she hadn't screamed or run away or shot him. And now she trusted him enough to sleep in his presence; it was strangely endearing.

He settled back on the couch across from her and tried to get comfortable. After a few moments of attempting to establish a connection to the _Fearless _he gave up and tried not to think about how relieved that made him as he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Shepard woke early, as usual; neither rain nor sleet nor crash-landed turians would keep this life-long farm girl from rolling out of bed at the crack of dawn. Said turian was passed out on her couch, snoring softly, his mandibles flicking in his sleep. She stifled a giggle and stood up to stretch (sleeping on the couch was not good for her back at all), then padded lightly upstairs, making sure to skip the squeaky one. The gray morning light was all her eyes could stand at this hour as she brushed the morning out of her mouth and smoothed her hair back. After a futile attempt to tame the great red monster growing out of her head, she opted to just pile it up and tie a bandanna over it. She put on a pair of jeans that had been stained so many times that the original color was anyone's guess, and one of her brother's old plaid work shirts with mother-of-pearl snaps and epaulettes. It was one of her favorites, the fabric worn so thin it felt like peach skin and smelled of burning leaves.

Shepard went back downstairs and poked her head into the living room to verify that yes, Garrus was still asleep, before going into the kitchen to check the ice box. They'd have to order more milk from the Williamses soon—their dairy was about three miles down the road and Ashley was always willing to trade a few gallons for some of Shepard's apple butter and a jar of 'shine. She pulled out some bacon and eggs and brought down her favorite cast iron skillet from its place on the wall. The morning light was brightening and slanting through the windows, the house was full of the smell of frying bacon, and Shepard set about planning how to lug the wreckage of Garrus' ship out of the woods without anyone seeing it.

"Life could be a dream, if I could take you up in paradise up above," she sang, her voice pitched low. "If you would tell me I'm the only one that you love, life could be a dream, sweetheart. Hello, hello again, sh-boom and hoping we'll meet again." She set a pot of coffee on the back burner and was going to check the bread box for biscuits when she spotted Garrus leaning in the kitchen doorway with an amused half-smile on his face.

"Hey there," he said, pushing off and wandering into the kitchen. "What was that you were singing?"

"It's called 'Sh-Boom' by The Chords. I had that record on all the time last summer."

"You have a nice voice, you know."

Shepard smiled sheepishly and had to turn away to hide the blush that colored her face. _Oh Jesus, Jane, stop acting like a teenager! "_You sleep all right?"

"Well enough, I guess. I wouldn't want to do it all the time, though. You?"

"Same. My back isn't what it used to be, and it's been reminding me all morning," she said, knuckling her lower back to illustrate the point.

He chuckled, his sub-vocals reverberating warmly. "I know the feeling. I think I must have pulled something in the crash."

"Well, aren't we the walking wounded this morning?" She shot him a grin and turned back to the stove to load up her plate. "Do you want any of this? It's bacon and eggs; I don't know if human food would agree with you, though."

"It wouldn't. The biology is a bit complicated, but basically it wouldn't have any nutritional value and I'll probably have a mild reaction to it."

"Is there anything you can eat?"

"I have about a month's worth of ration packs with me. All I need is some boiling water and I'll do the rest."

They sat down at the table and she watched him eat. His mouth didn't close completely, so he had to tilt his head back and swallow each bite with minimal chewing. Those teeth of his looked more suited to piercing and tearing, and so did the rest of him for that matter. Maybe turians were what the dinosaurs would have evolved into had they not been wiped out. There were evolutionary biologists out there who would kill for the chance to study him . . . and that was one hell of a sobering thought. If she'd learned anything about human nature from watching the news reels showing the concentration camps in Auschwitz and Dachau, it was that for every person with good intentions there was someone else willing to exploit them. No, she had to play this very carefully from here on out.

Once they had finished, she led him out the back door and into the barn where the truck was parked. She grabbed a length of chain and a large burlap tarp and tossed them into the trailer, then had Garrus help her back up to the trailer so she could hook it on. The truck was a 1948 Ford F6 that had seen better days and it was a monster to drive; you had to have arms of steel to steer it and it took a bit of cranking to get it to turn over, but it was built like a tank and ran with minimal maintenance. The one feature she needed it for today, though, was its ability to haul heavy loads.

Garrus climbed into the passenger seat and they set off, bumping across the field to the tree line. She recognized the spot immediately and unhitched the trailer, then backed as far as she could into the trees. She was pleased to find that she was able to get within about twenty feet of the ship before the trees grew too thick to pass between.

They went to inspect the ship, and in broad daylight the damage was even worse than she remembered. There were bright scars shearing though a few trees along the landing path and a considerable amount of debris piled up around the front. The fire hadn't damaged it overmuch from what she could see, and she hoped Garrus was able to find all the components he needed. He circled around the ship and pushed against it experimentally. It didn't budge, but it didn't look as though it was buried too deep; if the truck could get enough traction, they could probably move it. It would be getting it through the trees that could prove problematic.

The whole operation turned out to be a lot easier than she thought, though. They hauled it out with only one hang up, and dragged it up onto the trailer. They covered it with the burlap and tied it down, then hitched the trailer back up and hauled the ship back to the barn. It only took about two hours, and most of that was spent trying to figure out where to secure the chains so they wouldn't snap in half and kill somebody. Shepard breathed a lot easier once they were back in the relative safety of the barn.

"I think we can leave it on the trailer for now, unless you need it for something," said Garrus as he loosened the ropes that held the tarp down.

"No, that's fine. I need to get a few things done before it gets too late; lots of chores to do and I've got a late enough start as it is."

"Hey, don't let me keep you." She clapped him on the shoulder and left, a hush falling over the barn in her wake. He peeled back the tarp and gave his ship a once-over; he really was lucky as hell to be alive, much less mobile after an impact like that. The oxygen filtration systems were destroyed and the drive core had shorted out, but the fuse panel and scanning systems were largely untouched. He breathed a sigh of relief; all the parts were there, he just had to get to them and fit them into the transmitter. And stay out of sight. And try to explain to his superiors why he had been sharing forbidden knowledge with a human. And eventually he was going to have to actually go fix that beacon he'd come here for in the first place. He put a lid on that line of thinking and focused on the task at hand.

Shepard came by a few hours later to give him a glass of water and insist he take a break. They sat on the tailgate of the truck between bars of yellow sunlight that lit up the tiny bits of chaff that hung in the air and glinted off the red in the little spirals of hair that stuck out of her bandanna. Human fringes were so strange, all those tiny pieces that seemed to serve little purpose. Part of him (and he wasn't about to admit to himself how big a part) wanted to know what that wavy red mass felt like between his fingers.

His reverie was interrupted by the distant crackle of gravel under tires. Jane hopped down from the tailgate and went over to the door, just catching the familiar dark green of her brother's truck disappear past the house.

"Looks like John's back. I'll go distract him, just hang out here for a minute." Shepard jogged across the yard and around to the front porch. John was fishing in the truck for something and there were three guys milling around waiting for him. They all turned to look at her as she rounded the corner and stopped in front of them.

"Afternoon, gentlemen," she said cheerfully. "I'm Jane Shepard, John's sister."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Jacob Taylor," said the tall black man to her left. He struck her as a polite, well-spoken guy and his handshake was firm without being overbearing.

"James Vega," said a voice from behind him. James hoisted a camo green duffel bag over his shoulder and jumped to the gravel with a grunt. He was built like a bear and Shepard couldn't help but be impressed.

"You look like you could bench press a front loader, big guy," said Shepard, and the man leaning against the quarter panel snorted.

"Yeah, Big McLargehuge over here spent the whole ride telling us about the time he had to lift a tractor out of the mud all by himself." He took her hand and gave it two quick pumps before abruptly letting it drop. "Jeff Moreau, but everyone calls me Joker."

"Pleasure to meet all of you. Excuse me, I've got to talk to my brother for a minute." At that moment, John shut the truck door and came around to greet her, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. He bent his knees, wrapped her in a rib-crushing grip, and lifted her clean off the ground. She squealed and hugged him back.

"Hey, Jane. It's damned good to see you," he said, setting her back on her feet.

"Likewise, glad to see you made it here all right." They all started off toward the small guest house that stood between the second and third fields that they'd had built a few years ago during a particularly good harvest year. It was easier to sleep people there rather than in try to find room for them in the main house. There was no running water but it had electricity, a clean outhouse in the back, and a grill for cooking simple meals. Jane normally took care of dinner herself so everyone could sit down together and get to know each other at the end of the day. Shepard and John hung back a little so they could talk out of earshot.

"You know, Jane, I don't understand people sometimes." He sighed wearily and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh, no. What happened?"

"First of all, I had to drive clear to Charlottesville to find enough people to bring back since we're starting so late in the season. My own damn fault, I guess, but anyway I picked up Jacob just outside of Short Pump. He was standing out on the road asking anyone who came close enough if they needed any help, and one guy . . . this asshole in a Chevy puts his nose in the air like the goddamn king of England and says, 'I would never let one or _your people_ anywhere near my daughters.'"

"Did you hit him?" Jane asked and hoped the answer was yes. She'd grown up in the South, but that didn't make the rampant ignorance any easier to deal with.

"It was a near thing, but no. I hired Jacob on the spot, though, and the look the guy gave me was priceless, like I had just shit in his Wheaties." He rolled his shoulder and stretched, then let his hands drop to his sides with a sigh. "This is modern America, Jane. We defeated the Nazis, but we still can't manage to treat people in our own country decently."

"They only just started desegregating the schools last year, John. We're on the right track, just give it some time."

"I hope you're right. Anyway, enough about that. Did anything happen while I was away?"

_Ho boy, here goes._ "Well, let's see . . . the fourth field needs another dusting, I fixed the transmission on the combine so it'll be ready to go tomorrow, we need to build an enclosure for the garbage cans because Mr. Anderson's dog keeps knocking it over, and . . ." She stopped, unsure where to start.

"And you wrecked the truck?" John supplied with a smirk.

"No, but John—"

"You joined a commune of nuns?"

She laughed and punched his arm. "Stop it! John, something—" She lowered her voice and John had to lean in close to hear her. "Something crashed in the woods last night."

"What, like a plane?"

"Uh, not exactly. It was . . . ummm . . . I think it'd be easier if I just showed you."

"Jane, I don't have time right now to go tromping through the woods."

"You don't have to, it's in the barn."

"_What?_"

"Shut up!" Jane hissed. "I put it in there this morning. Look, let's just get the guys settled in the house first and I'll explain everything. But you have to promise not to flip out."

He gave her a suspicious look, but he nodded. "All right. But this had better be good."

"Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry about that."

They left the boys in the guest house with the promise of dinner and a tour later, and the siblings headed to the barn. "Okay, no ears around but the corn. Talk to me Jane, what the hell is going on?"

So she told him the whole story from waking up and seeing the smoke in the woods to shining the flashlight on the limp alien in the cockpit. John listened without interrupting, his face unreadable.

"Hang on, you mean to tell me there's a crashed alien ship sitting in our barn?"

"That's right," Shepard replied and watched him as though if she stared at him long enough he would tell her what he was thinking. His lack of reaction was worrying.

"With a dead alien in it."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did, you just told me you saw an alien sitting in the cockpit."

"I never said he was dead."

John stopped in his tracks so abruptly that he stumbled. He turned to look at her and his eyes were wide as dinner plates. "There's a _live_ alien in our barn? Are you sure you haven't been sampling the product, Jane? You know what that stuff does to you."

"I can assure you, dear brother, that I have not been drinking moonshine while you were away. There is an alien in our barn right now, and his name is Garrus."

"I swear to god, Jane, if you're messing with me—"

"Just come on and see for yourself." He was trying so hard to believe her, bless him. Shepard entered the barn first with John close on her heels and she heard him gasp when he saw the ship sitting in the trailer. There was a rustling from the vicinity of the truck and Garrus appeared, moving slowly and trying to look as unthreatening as possible. John's eyes were practically bugging out of his head and he looked from Garrus to his sister with his mouth hanging open.

"That's, um . . . that's him, huh?"

"No, that's the other alien I told you about." She slapped his chest and laughed. "Yes, that's him."

"The alien."

"Uh huh."

"In our barn."

"That's right."

John shook his head in utter disbelief and she watched as the shock was slowly replaced by giddy wonder and awe. He approached Garrus and put out his hand. The turian glanced her way and, reassured by the nod she gave him, shook John's hand, five fingers all but disappearing in his larger three-fingered grip. John laughed out loud and clapped Garrus on his armored shoulder.

"God damn, it is good to meet you! Welcome to Earth."

"Nice to meet you, too. Jane's told me a bit about you." John looked confused and Shepard couldn't figure out what was wrong until she remembered that he didn't have a translator.

"Oh, hang on a minute." She took one of her earpieces out and reached up to press it into John's ear. "Okay, Garrus, try it again." He repeated himself and John's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh, wow, this is the greatest thing ever. I can't believe . . . ! Holy cow, you're tall. Is that your ship?"

Jane clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. She was so relieved he was taking this well, even though she'd been fairly certain he would. Garrus heard it and smiled at her over John's shoulder, then started to show him the ship. They stood side by side with their arms crossed over their chests in exactly the same way and the similarities between them made her heart swell. Of course he'd be interested in the ship, he had been obsessed with the physics of interstellar travel for years. His school work was always covered in pictures of UFOs of differing designs all the way through high school and it had driven his teachers crazy. Garrus for his part seemed just as happy to have an apt pupil to talk to and it looked like her boys (for that's what they were to her now) would be fast friends.

It was starting to get late and she needed to start cooking soon. "I hate to interrupt shop talk, but I've got to go make supper."

"Oh, okay Jane. Need any help?"

She knew it would take a crowbar and a blowtorch to pry him away from the ship now, but it was nice of him to ask. "That's all right, I've got it. You boys have fun."

"Don't worry, we'll play nice," said Garrus, and he winked at her. Shepard blushed and left the barn, her stomach fluttering, wondering what that meant. Surely she wasn't attracted to him . . . right?


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: SPOILER ALERT: There was some discussion on the kinkmeme when I originally posted this about the sexytimes at the end of this chapter. I've given it a lot of thought and have decided to keep it the way I wrote it-I was happy with it when I posted it and I'm happy with it now. So, readers be warned-there's a love scene coming up._

* * *

Shepard typically went against the norms of modern society, but one of the few feminine things she indulged in was her title of undisputed queen of the kitchen. John pitched in occasionally when she was too tired but cooking, especially for lots of people, was her domain the rest of the time. She watched James, Joker, Jacob (_the three J's_, she thought), and her brother decimate the boiled cabbage, mashed potatoes, rolls, and baked chicken she'd prepared. Once all the dishes were cleared away and the leftovers put in the ice box, John took the three J's on a short tour of the grounds.

"Don't worry, we'll stay out of the barn for now," he whispered before he left. "It shouldn't be too hard to keep them away; they're only here for a few days, and then we'll take the crop to Anderson's. He's got more men on his payroll than we do, anyway."

"He'll want a cut," she said. It wouldn't set them back much, but they'd have to watch the budget a little closer if they outsourced.

"We can afford it, don't worry. Besides, you want three strangers working so close to that ship? All it takes is one slip, and the whole secret's out."

"You have a point. Hey, bring Garrus to the house once you've dropped off the boys."

"Will do." He kissed her cheek and led the J's out to the truck and the growling engine soon faded into the distance.

Shepard turned on the radio and cranked it up as loud as it would go, pulled on a pair of gloves, and began washing the dishes. She let her mind wander as her body went on autopilot; wash, rinse, dry, repeat.

Today while she puttered around the house and finished the little random chores that had been piling up, she couldn't stop thinking about Garrus. The novelty of the situation was partially to blame for that, but it wasn't until she realized she was trying to come up with reasons to go back to the barn that she began to think that maybe there was more to her feelings than simple curiosity.

As they were talking the night before, she found herself wanting to know about _him_ moreso than about his species, his deep mellifluous voice soothing and, she had to admit, _really_ sexy. The almost casual strength in those lithe limbs as he threw around the heavy chain and helped her tow the ship into the barn was impressive, too. Although the lines of his face and body were foreign, they were equally intriguing and she wanted to see more of them. Maybe she could convince him to take off his armor to find out just how far that armored carapace extended.

This lightness in her heart and the way her stomach flip-flopped when she entertained thoughts like that was something she hadn't felt in a long time, not since

(_no, we don't talk about him anymore_)

before the war ended. She hadn't expected to ever feel this way again, and the fact that she felt like this about Garrus was . . . weird and unexpected, sure, but exhilarating.

The song ended (she was so deep in her thoughts she had no idea which song it was), and the deejay broke in and announced the next one. "_Good evening ladies and gentlemen, it's a beautiful September night and we have just the thing here at WRVA to liven up your evening. This is Bill Haley and the Comets with 'Rock Around the Clock._'"

The drums rapped out the familiar intro and Shepard started singing along. "One-two-three o'clock, four o'clock rock!" She swung her hips and tossed her gloves on the counter, quick-stepping around the kitchen as she put the dishes away. "Five-six-seven o'clock, eight o'clock rock! Nine-ten-eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock rock, we're gonna rock! around! the clock tonight!"

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and she squealed as John spun her around, grabbed her hands, and started dancing. She leaned back to the table to put down the glass she'd been holding and laughed and whooped as they danced into the living room. She saw Garrus watching from beside the couch; he had traded his armor for a form-fitting black and blue outfit and he looked on with a huge grin on his face.

John dipped her back almost to the floor, then pulled her up fast and spun her across the room until she fell breathless . . . right into Garrus. His arms went around her waist to keep her from falling and lingered there after the song ended. She laughed and held his upper arms as she caught her breath.

"Nice catch, big guy."

"I didn't know you could dance like that, Shepard."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she retorted and as soon as it was out of her mouth she realized how suggestive that sounded. From the surprise that flitted across his face, he'd had a similar thought and her heart beat faster when his surprise turned to gentle affection.

"_Gonna slow it down for you crazy cats—this one's 'Earth Angel' by The Penguins. Keep your dial on 1140 AM WRVA, spinning the hits 'til they tell us to quit._"

She thought maybe Garrus would let her go once the song started, but instead he moved her arms up to his shoulders, laid his hands just above her hips, and they swayed slowly to the beat. Shepard looked around to see if John was watching, but he had gone.

She looked up into Garrus' bright blue eyes and the traitorous voice in the back of her head tried to convince her that this was wrong, this was a bad idea, what the hell did she think she was doing, but nothing it said was enough to make her leave the warm circle of his arms. His visor glowed with soft blue light and she saw a tiny light blipping on and off rhythmically. _Blink-blink, blink-blink._ It took her a moment to figure out that it was reading her heart rate.

_Sneaky bastard,_ she thought and spared a moment to be embarrassed that he knew what his touch was doing to her. She reached up to take it off and her fingers brushed against his mandible. He closed his eyes and turned into her touch and her mouth was suddenly too dry, her knees trembling.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"This," she murmured, taking off the visor and setting it on the coffee table, "is cheating." He gave her a small, rueful smile and took her hand, pressing it to his cheek. His skin was softer than it looked, stiffer than her own but pliant enough to give slightly under her fingers. He took off her bandanna and slid his fingers into her hair, running its length over his knuckles, his talons scratching lightly across her scalp. She closed the distance between them, the heat of his body seeping into her skin and making her flush with warmth and he threaded his fingers in her hair, cupped the back of her head, and bent slowly down to kiss her. His lips were much more flexible than they looked and he teased her mouth open, his tongue brushing lightly against her lower lip. The pace he set was slow and agonizingly sweet and his arms held her close as they explored each other, tasting and touching until her head spun.

He broke the kiss and backed up just enough to look at her, and his eyes were full of a need she knew was mirrored in her own.

"Garrus, I . . ." She clamped her eyes shut as if speaking the words hurt. "I think we're . . . rushing this a bit."

He stroked her cheek and she peeked up at him from under her eyelashes. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. No rush, no pressure." He lifted her chin so she had to meet his eyes, the fire there banked down to embers; still present, but not all-consuming. "Do you want to stop?"

She chuckled and traced the edges of his chest plates through his shirt. "God, no, but I need to think about this first. Being horny is not conducive to good decision-making, and there are a lot of reasons not to do this." _Finally, you listen to reason!_ said the traitor voice, and she mentally bitch-smacked it for its smugness.

"You have a point. We could both have an allergic reaction to each other and die, and then what would John do?" He clutched his chest melodramatically and she laughed, the tension slowly ebbing away. She kissed his cheek one last time and excused herself to go take a shower. _Maybe a cold one,_ she thought.

* * *

Garrus watched her go up the stairs and sighed. Shepard's reluctance was probably the right thing, but that didn't stop him from wanting to follow her up and kiss her again. Spirits, she was so soft and smelled so amazing; her scent was all over him and it was making it very difficult not to throw caution to the wind and indulge his baser instincts.

He fit his visor back over his eye and stepped out onto the porch, hoping the fresh air would clear his head. The sun had set and it was dark enough that he thought he was reasonably safe from prying eyes. John was leaning against the railing with a longneck bottle of beer dangling from his fingers, staring out into the yard. Fireflies, the summer's last stragglers, glowed yellow and green in the gathering night.

"Hey, Garrus." The other man took a sip of his beer and Garrus took up a spot next to him. After a long pause, John said, "So, you and my sister, huh?"

Garrus flinched and glanced over at him, but couldn't make out his features. "How much did you see?"

"Just the way you two looked at each other when you were dancing." Garrus started to explain himself, but John held up a hand to stop him. "Look, far be it for me to get in her business, but I'm still her big brother. I've been looking out for her for a long time now, and if you're really going to pursue her then there's something that you need to know." He paused for a minute to gather his thoughts, then said, "Did she mention that she was married before?"

"No, she didn't."

"This would have been about, let's see . . . she met Kaidan about twelve years ago and they got married as soon as she graduated high school. He enlisted in the navy not long after that, and he and I ended up serving in the same unit, the V Corps. The war was just about over by that point, but of course we didn't know that." John paused for a moment, taking another long pull of his beer before continuing. "Anyway, one day the orders come down that we were going to invade Omaha Beach, Normandy. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it say that day was one that I still have nightmares about. My men, men I'd known for months, who had families and children back home were torn apart and left to die on that beach. It was the most brutal thing any of us had ever seen. Kaidan made it about fifty paces before he took five machine gun rounds to the chest. I stayed with him until he died, and the last thing he did was ask me to take care of Jane."

Garrus had no idea what to say to that. He remembered reading a little about the Battle of Normandy, how it the Germans suffered a major defeat there at the expense of over 200,000 dead, wounded, or missing Allied soldiers. It was counted as a victory, but the amount of carnage must have been terrible.

"I wrote the letter myself, telling Jane that her husband was dead. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but the thought of her having to read one of those generic 'We're sorry for your loss' letters was too much to bear. As soon as my tour was over I retired, took the money I got from the GI Bill, and bought this place. We've been here for about ten years now, and it's taken most of that time to get her to open up again. She'd been doing a lot better, but when you showed up . . . Garrus, this is the happiest she's been in years. Part of that is finally getting the answer to that age old question, 'Are we alone in the universe?' But part of it is you. I'm not stupid, I see the way she looks at you. I never thought I'd see that look on her face again."

John set his bottle aside and regarded Garrus with a serious expression. "I'll be the first to admit that I don't know much of anything about you, but my gut tells me you're one of the good guys, alien or no, and it's never been wrong before. All I'm saying is that if you really care about her, then I won't stand in your way. Hell, seeing her happy again is enough for me to forgive you just about anything. But I don't think she can stand another heartbreak, and I sure as hell don't want to have to pick up the pieces."

They were silent for a long time after that, and Garrus started really thinking about what getting involved with Jane would entail. He was stranded here for now, but it wouldn't be long (maybe another two days or so) before he'd get that transmitter working again and someone from the _Fearless_ would arrive to take him back. He would likely never get the chance to see her again; the recon missions he usually went on lasted no more than a few hours, maybe a day at most. What kind of relationship could possibly come of that? She couldn't come with him, the Council would never allow that, and he couldn't stay here because he'd starve to death and he couldn't risk being seen by other humans. There weren't a lot of options for them. It wasn't fair—he'd finally found someone he truly cared a great deal about and he couldn't be with her.

On the other hand, if they only had a few more days together, he wanted to make the most of them. He'd have to lay everything out on the table and let her make the decision, and he would live with her choice. It was the best he could do until he could figure something out.

"I appreciate your telling me that, John," he said finally. "I can't promise anything, but for what it's worth I do care about your sister and I'll do my damndest not to hurt her."

John smiled and clapped him on the back. "You do that. Because if you do, I'll have to fix that ship of yours and come after you myself."

* * *

The next morning found them sitting down to breakfast as the sun rose. The weather was beginning to turn and Shepard had donned a sweater to stave off the chill in the air. They'd have to start chopping firewood in earnest soon; there was already some stacked next to the house inside the screened-in porch that was well-seasoned, but it wouldn't be enough to carry them through to spring. She and John started making plans and designating tasks, and it was decided that she stay in the house to start the winterizing process. She was just trying to remember where they had put the strips of plywood they used to seal off the porch when there was a crash from outside.

"That'll be the trash cans," she said, rising from the table. "Damn dog. I don't get why Anderson doesn't lock that mutt of his up."

"At least leave the shotgun this time," John said, and she shot him a look. "Jane, you can't shoot the dog."

"Yeah, yeah." She stepped into a pair of rain boots (after checking them for bugs; the last time she'd forgotten to do that she ended up with a slug squished between her toes—yech) and went outside. The trash cans were lined up along the west side of the house and one of them was knocked over, a mid-sized brownish-gray lab and collie mix standing over the mess. Its shaggy fur was matted and damp, and it was poking its nose into the pile of apple cores that had spilled out onto the ground.

"Udina!" she yelled and clapped her hands. The dog startled and barked at her. "Don't you give me that, Udina, you get out of here now." When the dog made no move to go, she gave it a light swat to its rump and it ran off. "Go on, shoo!" She sighed and started clearing up the mess, trying to decide if she should call Anderson about this or just build an enclosure and hope that kept the dog off their property.

She was headed back into the house when she heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway and her heart sank. _Please don't let it be them, please, not right now._ She barreled into the house and ran to the living room windows. John was already out of his seat and moving to the back door, and Garrus looked thoroughly confused.

"Who is it, Jane?" he asked, a tense edge creeping into his voice.

_Please don't let it be-_

_Fuck._

"It's Henrico County police," she said. John muttered a string of curses and pulled on his own boots.

"I'll go to the barn and disable the still. Christ, I hope they don't have a warrant. Can you see who it is?"

Shepard cupped her hands to either side of her face and squinted through the glass. "It looks like Kenny Leng and Sid Lantar."

"Oh, Jesus _wept_ . . . all right, keep them talking, I'll be back as soon as I can." He took off silently across the field, keeping to the path they'd worked out that would keep him hidden from view all the way to the barn.

"Shepard, is everything all right?" Garrus asked as he came to stand next to her. He stayed away from the windows, for which she was grateful, and he looked ready for action.

"Remember when I told you we make moonshine here, and it isn't strictly legal? Well, these guys have been trying to bust us for years. They come by every once in a while to make sure we're behaving, and so far we've been able to stay one step ahead. Lantar isn't so bad; I think he'd actually be a good cop if he wasn't partnered with Leng. That guy . . . he's something else. He's had it out for us like we killed his grandmother or something, but he makes sure to never do anything we could report him for. And he's a racist son-of-a-bitch to boot."

"Sounds like a real charmer," said Garrus with a sardonic twitch of his mandibles. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not really." The two cops were getting out of their cruiser, Lantar shifting uncomfortably and Leng wearing his characteristic self-righteous half-smile. "Just stay in here and try not to let them see you." She took a deep breath and began her mantra-_I will not scream at the police officers, I will not scream at the police officers-_then went out onto the front steps to meet them.

"Morning, ma'am," Leng drawled. "I hope you're doing well."

"Mmm hmm. Why are you here, Officer Leng?" She knew her extreme displeasure at their intrusion was plain on her face, but they deserved and expected it by now. Sid Lantar hung back a little, looking everywhere but at her.

"Just making my rounds, thought I'd pay y'all a visit and maybe take a look at that still of yours. Make sure it's still OOC." His eyes swept over her and she had the sudden urge to take a shower. God, she hated him, and he knew it.

"We've been over this before; unless you have a warrant, I'm gonna have to ask you to get off my property."

Leng's eyes drifted across the field to the house where the J's were staying. The three men were currently milling around outside, getting ready to start the day. Leng's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared and she knew he'd seen Jacob.

"Looks like you found some hired hands. That's lucky, this late in the season. Although, I suppose it's easier when you're willing to hire a nig—"

Shepard was suddenly down the steps and in Leng's face before she'd even made the conscious decision to move. "You should think long and hard about whether or not you really want to finish that sentence," she hissed through gritted teeth. Leng's half-smile disappeared and with the pretense stripped away, Shepard saw the true face of the man. He went still and his eyes turned dark and dangerous, almost predatory.

"You threatening me, girlie?"

"Of course not, _Officer_," she said, her voice thick with anger. They stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity before Leng's smile returned and he scoffed.

"All right, Sid, let's go." They went to get back into their cruiser and Leng gave her one last leer before ducking into the car. As they backed down the driveway, Shepard saw Lantar staring wide-eyed past her at the house—at the windows, where she could just make out the glow of Garrus' visor. If not for that, he would have been invisible. _Oh, no, _she thought as her stomach twisted into knots. She hoped like hell Lantar hadn't seen anything, but if the look on his face was any indication . . . _Shit._

She trudged back into the house, shut the door, and leaned back against it with her eyes shut tight. This was entirely too much to have to deal with before noon. How much had Lantar seen? Would he tell Leng, and how much would he believe if he did?

_Shit, shit, shit._

Garrus touched her shoulder and she looked up at him with weary eyes. "You did well out there," he said. "I probably would have shot him."

Shepard laughed and even to her it sounded harsh and strange. "Oh, I wanted to. He loves to push my buttons, though, and I hate that I allow him to get to me like that." She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and groaned. "I think Sid Lantar saw you."

"I was afraid of that. While you and Leng were facing off, I admit I got a bit . . . protective and came too close to the windows. I don't think he got a clear view, but . . ."

"Yeah. No way to be sure how much he saw." She took his hand in hers and ran her thumb back and forth across his knuckles, wondering if calling a hard-edged turian _adorable_ for wanting to protect her was in any way appropriate. Probably not. "I think next time they come by, I'm gonna post you on the roof with that sniper rifle of yours."

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her temple. Shepard was having a hard time thinking of anything other than his unarmored chest right at her eye level. "If they do come back, I'll have your six, Shepard."

She wanted to tell him then exactly how he affected her, how much she liked the idea of having him watching her back. In another moment she might have, but the back door opened and John came in, tugging off his boots and anxiously mussing his hair. She and Garrus resumed a more casual pose as he came into the living room, and she thought she saw a sly glint in his eye when he saw them standing there, in all probability looking guilty as hell.

"So, did Captain Asshole give you any problems?" he asked, electing to take the high road and make fun of her later.

"She almost punched him in the face after he insulted one of your men," Garrus said proudly.

"Did she?" John asked, his eyes shining with glee. Shepard rolled her eyes; she was in for the ribbing of the century later.

"It was really no big deal," she said, "he was just being himself. He's not backing down, though, so we'll have to be careful from here on out."

With the crisis averted, John went out to start on the harvest with the J's, Garrus headed upstairs to get to work on the transmitter, and Jane was left to putter around the house. It was nice to get her hands dirty and work out some of the anxiety and anger that had settled on her shoulders after the encounter with Henrico's finest.

While Shepard worked downstairs, Garrus sat at the sewing table in the guest room fiddling with the metal and wires before him without really seeing them. He would have the transmitter finished by tonight if everything went well, and the pain that caused him made him wonder just what had happened to him in the short time he'd been on this planet. He respected the humans for their tenacity and strength that was so different from his own; turians were all raw power and relied on their force of arms to win battles and assert themselves among the galactic community, but humans had evolved much differently. Their fragile bodies were surprisingly durable in extreme conditions (they certainly handled the cold better than turians did), and their species as a whole possessed an indomitable will to conquer their surroundings and thrive rather than adapt to them. He couldn't help but admire the fact that they were apex predators in their own right, but the idea that he could be attracted to one had never occurred to him. He'd worked among the asari long enough that he could appreciate the appeal—all those curves and flexible limbs had a certain aesthetic value—but he'd never wanted to be with one of them the way—

The way he wanted her.

Spirits, he was a terrible turian.

For turians, a lot of their worth was inexorably bound to their abilities as a soldier, and Garrus was one of the best in his unit; his strategies and tactics were sound, he could hit a target at 2,000 meters, and was a strong leader. Shepard didn't know that, and she treated him like an equal anyway. That was the crux of it, he thought. To be liked simply for who he was, to be seen as an individual worthy in his own right—that was something he hadn't had for a very long time. What he felt for Shepard wasn't love, not yet, but it had the potential to be, and he surprised himself with just how much he wanted that. He wished like hell that there was some way to stay with her; he told himself it was impossible, but . . .

An idea had begun to form in the back of his mind last night. There was a chance, if he played it right, that he could make this work but it would take time and a lot of luck. If he pulled it off, though . . . no, best not to get his hopes up just yet. He couldn't even get started on that until he'd gone back to the _Fearless_ anyway, but it was worth a shot.

Light footfalls on the stairs pulled him out of his thoughts and he glanced out the window. The sun was setting already, painting the clouds pink and orange, so different from the blazing sunsets of Palaven. He froze, waiting to see what she'd do. The footsteps stopped right outside the door and he could practically hear her thinking. Her feet shuffled and she took a step toward her room and he thought maybe she'd leave, but then there was a quiet knock on the door. He let out the breath he'd been holding and tried to make it look like he was concentrating on the transmitter when he said, "Come in."

She entered and stood by his chair to watch him work, and the display on his visor showed that her vitals were spiking. It made him feel a little better to know that she was just as nervous as he was.

"Just give me a second to wrap these wires," he said and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat and will his stomach to be still so he could keep his voice steady. When he was finished, he turned around and he watched as her heart rate kicked into high gear when his eyes locked on hers.

"How's it coming?" she asked, pointing at the mostly reassembled metal box on the table. The glowing characters on it had changed from red to blue, which she assumed was a good sign.

"Luckily, the ship had everything I needed. I only have a few more adjustments to make before I can send a distress signal to the_Fearless_." He turned a little in the seat and his knees brushed against hers. "But, I don't think you came up here to ask me about that, did you?"

She shook her head. God, why was it suddenly so hard to talk to him? It was like he took all the air out of the room. "I've been thinking a lot about us." He gently moved a lock of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, and her breath caught in her throat. "I know the chances of this—whatever this is—continuing after you leave are slim to none. You've got a home to get back to and I've got a life here, and I know I might never see you again." Garrus was crestfallen, but he didn't let it show. He had promised himself that he would honor her decision, and he intended to stick to that. Which was why he was so taken off guard when she put her hands on his shoulders, leaned down to his upturned face, and continued, "But you know what? If this time is all we're going to get, I intend to make the most of it." Those last words were whispered against his mouth just before she pressed her lips against him, eliciting a small, pleased moan from him when her tongue slipped out and met his.

He reached out and pulled her down into his lap, her legs on either side of his, and he slipped one hand up under her shirt to touch the skin of her lower back. She breathed a sigh into his mouth and started kissing and licking her way along his mandible. His skin smelled like warm leather and gun oil with a hint of something like sandalwood that she couldn't quite place, combined into a heady scent that she thought she'd be happy to drown in. She ran her tongue along the soft skin along his jaw, on the underside of his mandible and he shuddered against her, his talons tensing slightly. She suddenly realized that if he wasn't careful he could easily cut her skin to ribbons, but rather than deter her that edge of danger just made her need him more.

Her fingers worked up his neck and found a patch of skin between his neck plates and fringe that felt remarkably like her own. She massaged it experimentally and he arched against her and _growled_, his chest rumbling against her body and sending shivers straight to her groin. Suddenly he pushed her away but before she could ask what was wrong, he was pulling the snaps on her shirt open and covering every inch of exposed skin with eager hands. She wriggled out of the sleeves and unhooked her bra, and he fumbled with the clasps on his shirt for a moment but finally managed to get it off and tossed it into the growing pile of clothes. He didn't know what she would think of his body once she saw it—they were so vastly different from each other, after all—but she hesitantly touched his bare chest and traced along his plates and the more sensitive skin between.

Garrus was torn; he wanted this (by the Spirits, he wanted this more than anything), but for all his reading about human history, a tutorial on female physiology had been conspicuously absent. Now that he'd gotten this far, he realized he had no idea how to proceed. She seemed to sense his dilemma and smiled, then stood up and started unbuttoning her jeans.

"You know, I just remembered," she said, pulling the zipper down slowly, teasingly. "During question-and-answer time, not once did we ask each other what we liked in bed." She hooked her thumbs under the waistband and pulled down both her pants and underwear, the fabric sliding slowly down her legs to the floor, and she stepped out of them. His eyes were drawn to the curved lines of her body, the way her waist curved in and down over her hipbones, the graceful arch of her collarbone, the turn of her ankle. Shepard took his hand and pulled him up so he stood before her and she tugged on the waistband of his pants, pulling his hips against hers before drawing him down for a kiss. "What say we remedy that, hmmm?"

His blood was practically on fire and he felt himself stiffening inside his groin plates. "Oh, yeah. I'd like that."

"Show me what else you like, Garrus." Spirits, if she kept saying his name like that he was going to have a hard time controlling himself. He took her hand and placed it on his waist, and she squeezed the thinner plates there experimentally. The rush of heat that spread though his body made him gasp and his plates loosened a little more.

"Like this?" she asked and he nodded wordlessly with his eyes shut, gripping her upper arms for support. "And I already know about this one." Her other hand went back to the underside of his fringe and his knees trembled as the waves of pleasure washed over him. With a glance between his legs, she watched as the head of his penis emerged, cerulean blue and tapered at the end. She brought her hand down from his fringe to tease along the edges of his pelvic slit. His breath was coming faster now and he took her hand, showing her how to slip her fingers inside his plates and rub the moist, spongy flesh there. His erection was fully exposed now, thick and curved and textured with tiny bumps and ridges. She curled her fingers around the base and squeezed lightly, then moved slowly back and forth, his little gasps and moans urging her on. _This,_ at least, was familiar enough, she thought with a smile.

Garrus' hands grazed over her shoulder blades and traced the valley of her spine down to the curve of her hipbones. For someone who looked so outwardly soft, she was sheathed in the strong musculature of a woman used to hard manual labor. The way her skin stretched over her frame as she moved was mesmerizing and incredibly sexy. He had to have more of her.

He scooped her up suddenly, laid her on the bed, and climbed up over her. He buried his face in her neck to taste her, running his tongue over the smooth taut surface. She gasped as he licked a long, hot line up along her jaw and under her ear, his mandibles fluttering as he took the lobe into his mouth and nipped lightly.

"My turn," he murmured and she shivered in anticipation. "Show me how to touch you." His breath ghosted across her neck and in her ear, and she had a hard time figuring out how to string together a full sentence.

"Right here," she said, moving one of his hands to rest on her breast. He ran his thumb over her nipple and she arched into his touch, so he moved down her body, his tongue and teeth questing down over her clavicle to her chest. He cupped her breast and mounded it up, then all at once pulled her nipple into his mouth and rolled it with his tongue. Shepard moaned and clung to his fringe, pulling him hard against her. His tongue was like a live wire electrifying her skin and sending hot currents through her body to pool with a wet heat between her legs. He scratched lightly down her hip and along the outside of her leg and she lifted her knee to give him more room to maneuver. He got the hint and circled around to her inner thigh, and his talons dimpling her skin was just as delicious as she thought it would be.

"You smell so good," he said, his breath warm against the wetness he'd left on her nipples. "I want to know what you taste like." Garrus looked up at her across the expanse of her chest and the hunger in his eyes made the muscles in her stomach quiver. "Is that something that humans do?"

"Yes," she whispered, not quite trusting her voice.

"Would you like me to?" he asked, laying a kiss on her sternum.

"I think I might actually die of disappointment if you don't," she answered and he laughed softly.

The mattress creaked as he scooted down and settled himself between her legs. She had hair here, too; it was darker red than that on her head, and trimmed short. He teased along her thighs and outer lips until she was panting and writhing with need.

"Please, Garrus," she moaned. "Just . . . _hah_ . . ." He spread her open with his thumbs and ran the flat of his tongue up her pussy. All coherent thought was blasted from her mind under his ministrations and all she could manage was "more" and "harder" and "oh god, right there." He rubbed circles over her clit while he tongued her opening and she bucked her hips, gripping the headboard, the pressure building faster and faster. With one last flick of his tongue, white stars exploded before her eyes and she came with a gasping cry, calling his name.

She didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until Garrus kissed her; she could taste herself on his mouth. His erection pressed insistently against the spot he'd paid such wonderful attention to; she was still so sensitive that just that touch sent aftershocks through her.

Garrus breathed into her hair, inhaling the scent. He wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless until they broke the bed, but she had a point—if this was all the time they'd get, he wanted to get the most out of it.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed. "Still with me, big guy?" Instead of answering, he touched her forehead with his, guided himself to her opening, and pushed . . . slowly . . . in. All those bumps and ridges were coaxing wanton moans from her, and when he was fully sheathed in her warm, wet pussy he hooked her knee over his arm and pulled it up almost to her chest.

"By the spirits, you're so _tight_," he growled.

"Then move for me, Garrus." She rolled her hips up to meet his and he moved with her, quickly finding their rhythm. Shepard was back on the edge soon, that familiar euphoria hovering so close as he rocked his hips into hers, panting and moaning and grasping, his talons just barely pressing into her skin. She dug her fingers into the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss rough enough to bruise her lips, and the last of his control was stripped away as she cried out into his mouth. He drove into her and bit her shoulder, fighting the urge to sink his teeth in and mark her. Shepard clutched his cowl like it was the last thing between her and oblivion before going tense and moaning his name through gritted teeth as she rode the crest of her orgasm. Her muscles clenched erratically around his cock and he thrust one, two, three times before roaring his own release, muffled against her neck.

His arms were shaking with the effort of holding himself up, but he managed to kiss her one last time before pulling out and collapsing onto the bed. She stretched languidly, running her hands over her body, savoring the warm glow that came with really great sex. Her thighs rubbed together and she winced; so, there were drawbacks to being with someone with what amounted to a carapace. Garrus noticed her pained expression and saw the angry red skin between her legs and on her lower stomach.

"I—I'm so sorry, I had no idea—" Shepard put her finger over his mouth and shook her head.

"Don't even think about being sorry for this." He looked like he still wanted to protest, but she just moved closer and kissed his mandible with a smile. "You have no idea how long it's been since anyone has made me feel this amazing. A little chafing is well worth it."

"At least let me put something on it," he said, and retrieved a small jar of a clear jelly-like substance from his bag under the sewing table. He scooped out a dollop of the stuff and put it on the worst spots; it was cool and took the sting away almost immediately, leaving her skin tingling.

"What is it?"

"Medi-gel. It's good for practically everything, and I always keep a good supply. I've used it to patch up everything from minor burns to gunshot wounds." As someone who had known people to die from relatively small injuries and infection, medi-gel seemed like nothing short of a miracle to Shepard. Her skin was already going back to its normal color.

"So," he continued, "since you mentioned it, just how long has it been?"

"Wow, you just jump right in there, don't you?" she said with a grin. "Hmmm, let's see . . . well, there was this one time about three years ago, but he was an asshole so that doesn't count. So, I'm gonna say . . ." She hesitated, knowing how it would sound. "Ten years."

Garrus was quiet as he took in that admission. "John told me about Kaidan. I hope you don't mind."

"No, I probably would have told you eventually. It's just . . . it's still hard to talk about that." He pulled her close and she rested her cheek against his chest.

"No boyfriends since then?" She shook her head, her hair tickling his chin.

"It wasn't a conscious decision or anything; I wasn't trying to stay true to his memory by avoiding relationships. My mother is still convinced that's what I was doing." She sighed and tried to figure out how to continue, and Garrus stroked her hair in silence, waiting. "I just never found anyone else I was interested in, is all. There were a few men over the years who were good enough for one or two nights, but the spark just wasn't there."

"And now?" he asked. She shifted away from him and propped herself up on her elbow, regarding him seriously.

"Garrus, there are so many things standing between you and I that I've lost count. Any kind of future for us is a long shot at best." She smiled and kissed him then, the barest touch of lips against his. "But if there was a way, I would take it. I'd forgotten what it was like to feel really connected to someone until you fell into my life."

"Shepard . . . Jane . . . What would you say if I told you I think I know a way we could have that future?"

Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she dared to hope. "I'm listening."

He started to lay out his plan, and that hope took root and started to grow into something more firm and sure; something that could become the rest of her life if she went along with it, and she decided right then and there that she really, really wanted this. It would be time consuming and relied a lot on luck, but the prize . . . that would be worth every ounce of effort they would have to put into it.

"So, you really think the salarians would be willing to do that for us, too?" she asked once he was finished explaining. "I mean, it obviously didn't work out so well for the krogan."

"The krogan society is built on blood. Every single adult male is a blooded warrior," Garrus said. "Humans go to war, too, but your culture isn't centered around it. I think that if we can show them what humans have to bring to the galactic stage that the Council will agree to uplift you."

"That word makes it sound like they'd be scooping us out of the primordial soup or something." She sighed and sat up, and Garrus traced circles on her lower back. "They'd have to be careful," Shepard said wryly. "People around here have a hard enough time dealing with people with darker skin; the idea of what someone like Leng would do to someone from another planet is terrifying. What if it sparks a war? That would _not_ end well for my people."

"Don't worry about it yet, we don't even know if the Council will grant me an audience. It'll take time and a lot of convincing, but I think we have a shot at this."

"I hope you're right."

He pulled her back down and bumped her forehead with his. "Of course I am."


	4. Chapter 4

Two hours earlier:

i_Sid Lantar crept through the woods just inside the tree line, heading for the Shepards' barn. He'd decided after this most recent showdown between his partner and Ms. Shepard that enough was enough. He had to put an end to Kenny's ridiculous obsession, so he was going to disable the still once and for all. Hopefully throwing a wrench in the gears of their operation would keep Leng away. He felt like a thief in the night sneaking onto their property like this, but it was the only thing he could think to do._

_He opened the small inset door and clicked on his flashlight. The still sat in the gloom in an unused stable, exactly where it was the last time he'd seen it. He disconnected the oil tankard and the hoses and coiled the hoses around his arm, shining the flashlight around the cavernous space. The beam shone briefly on a patch of matte metal and he saw a hulking shape sitting on a trailer, covered in a tarp. It was the wrong shape for farm equipment, and huge. He went over and lifted up a corner of the tarp, and gaped like a fish at what lay under it. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, and at first he thought it was Soviet-made, but the characters scrawled on the edge of the cockpit weren't Cyrillic—at least not any form of the language he'd ever seen. Lantar had been a mechanic in the Air Force and knew his way around aircraft, but the configuration of the instrument panel on this thing made no sense at all. There was an open panel on the hull that exposed the slightly charred innards, and what he saw made him uneasy in his inability to recognize anything that even remotely resembled an engine. At least, any engine he'd ever seen. _

_What the hell was going on here? First, he thought he'd seen the silhouette of someone in the Shepards' house, but it had looked all _wrong_. And then it had seen him, one glowing blue eye staring daggers at him. He couldn't make out any details, just that whoever it was, was _big._ Was there some connection between the stranger and this ship? What did that mean if there was?_

"_Hey there, Sid," said a voice behind him, and Lantar nearly jumped clean out of his skin. He whirled around, his flashlight beam darting around, hoping John hadn't discovered him. Who he did see was far worse._

"_Hey, Kenny," he said, trying (and failing miserably) not to look as guilty as he felt. "What are you doing here?"_

"_I might ask you the same thing, Sid," he drawled, advancing on him. "I saw you commandeer a cruiser and try to ditch me back at the station, and I just knew you were going to do something stupid. Looks like I was right." He glanced at the hoses coiled around Sid's arm and grinned. Sid thought he looked like a shark when he did that, all teeth and none of the happiness such an expression was supposed to contain. _

"_Kenny, you've got to leave these people alone. They're just minding their own business, they're not hurting anybody." But that wasn't the point, and he knew it. _

"'_These people' are a threat to all the good, respectable people in this community. They're bringing coloreds here, letting them work their land, and thumbing their nose at me with this . . . this shit!" He kicked the oil tankard and sent it rolling into the corner. "I aim to make sure they pay for it, Sid. I thought you were better than this, but here you are—and doing what exactly?" He looked like he was going to start throwing punches when his eyes lit on the hulking shape behind Sid. "What's this?" _

"_Nothing, just some broken machinery," Sid said hurriedly, but Kenny just pushed him aside and lifted the tarp. His mouth fell open and he ran a finger along the hull, and his eyes took on an evil sort of merriment that did not bode well for the Shepards. Sid suddenly felt ill and wished to god he'd never joined the force._

"_I think we'll be paying mister and missus Shepard a visit tomorrow," Kenny said softly. Sid shook his head and Kenny's eyes narrowed with rage. In a move almost too fast to see, he drew his pistol and aimed it at Sid's eye. "You'll be coming with me, won't you Sid?"_

_All he could do was nod, and try to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess._

* * *

It was finished. The numerical display on the transmitter showed it was ready to go; all he had to do was activate it. Garrus sat at the sewing table staring at the unassuming metal box for the better part of an hour, telling himself it was the only way.

Didn't make it any easier, though.

He ran a talon along the hidden seam on the side and a panel popped open. He hovered over the button for a moment, then pressed it. The future was now coming at him with like an event horizon and he could practically feel the weight bearing down on him. There was a creak from behind him, and he turned to see Shepard watching him. Her eyes were puffy with sleep and her hair stuck out in crazy corkscrews in every direction, and she gave him a tired smile.

"So, how long do you think it'll be before they send someone?" she asked, trying not to sound as dejected as she felt.

"A day, maybe two. It depends on whether they have a ship they can deploy immediately or not." He sat beside her and tried to smooth her hair down, but it kept springing back up.

"How bad is it?" she asked. Having curly hair made for some legendary bedhead.

"It's not so bad, if you don't mind looking like you picked a fight with a Tesla coil and lost." She laughed and smacked his chest in mock indignation, then headed off to the shower to regain control over her hair.

The morning dawned gray and rainy, and Shepard decided that it was a good day for canning. Garrus sat at the kitchen table cleaning his rifle, occasionally looking up to watch her. He'd never given much thought to the work required for preserving food since nearly everything was automated in Citadel space, and he was surprised at how much time was involved. Shepard had three projects going at once—simmering apple butter, brining cucumbers to make pickles, and cooking down tomato sauce—and a huge pot of boiling water for sanitizing the jars. Soon she had to open the windows to let the steam outside and the drapes fluttered in the cool breeze while the rain tapped on the sill. It was a very homey sort of feeling, and Garrus felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

John came in just before ten o'clock looking worn around the edges. He had gone out to the guest house for beers with the J's and it had evidently gone late into the night. After a tired 'good morning' to Garrus and his sister, he made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and checked the cookie jar.

"The cookies are gone," he remarked sadly.

"So, what are you going to do about that?" Shepard asked, holding out a spoonful of hot apple butter for him to taste.

"Ask my favorite sister nicely to make some more?" He dutifully tasted it and hummed his approval, so she started ladling it into jars.

"You know, I don't remember you breaking your fingers recently."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

She kissed his cheek and gave him a light smack to round it off. "Bake your own damn cookies."

"I'll clean the bathroom for you."

"Chocolate chip it is."

Garrus laughed, shaking his head; they sounded so much like Solana and himself. The phone rang in the hallway and John went to answer it. Shepard cocked her head to listen in.

"Hello? Oh, hey Sid." _Sid? What could he be calling for?_ Shepard wondered. "What? What the hell do you need that for? Well, can it wait until later?" He muttered something that sounded like 'up your nose with a rubber hose, buddy,' then said, "No, I'll tell her. All right, Sid. 'Bye." John came back into the kitchen looking like he wanted to throw something out the window. "Sid wants us to come in and sign off on an affidavit that basically says that they're not gonna press charges against you for 'harassing a police officer.'"

Shepard's face went from astonishment to spitting rage in about .5 seconds. "What?! That asshole! Where does he get off threatening us with that shit? I've a mind to go down there and shove my foot so far up his and Leng's asses that they'll taste boot leather for a week."

"Wow, Jane. Tell me how you really feel, why don't you?" said John with a wry smile.

"Sorry, it's just—well, you know how it is. Anyway, I can't go right now. I've got all this stuff on the stove and I can't leave it just now."

"It's all right. If he really needs your signature, I'll tell him you'll be by later." He left with a sigh, taking his uneaten sandwich with him.

About thirty minutes later, a familiar HCPD cruiser pulled up. Garrus was the first to see them and he growled.

"Shepard." His sub-vocals were pitched low with anger. She looked out the window and swore.

"What the hell? Sid just called . . ." Her eyes went wide. "Hey, you think he wanted to get us out of the house so they could poke around without an audience?"

"I think that's a very likely scenario." Garrus was hurriedly reassembling his gun and Shepard went to get the shotgun; she'd be damned if she let this go on any longer. The situation had progressed far past a simple nuisance to outright harassment and she had had enough.

"If they make a move toward the barn, I want you to go up to the attic and keep an eye on them with your scope. There should be a clear vantage point to the barn from up there."

"What if they turn hostile?" he asked, all business; he wasn't treating her like a damsel in distress, just forming a contingency plan, and Shepard liked him even more for it.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't shoot them but if you have to, go for a non-lethal shot."

"Gotcha." He stood to one side of the window and pulled the drapes aside. "They're going to the barn. Go handle them; I've got your six." He was gone in a flash, and she wondered how someone so big could move so silently.

Shepard went out the back door to the porch and watched Sid and Leng make their way across the wide lawn through a gap in the plywood. Once they were in the barn, Shepard slipped out and jogged toward them, the rain soaking her through to the skin but she barely noticed. She peered into the barn through the half-open doorway and watched as Leng went immediately to the ship, her blood freezing in her veins.

_He knows! How does he know?_

"So considerate of them to leave it on a trailer," Leng was saying. "Should make it easier to get it out of here."

"What are you going to do?" Sid asked. "Call the newspaper?"

"No, I'm taking this thing into Quantico. I figure I can bargain for a promotion and a reward bonus for this."

"Kenny, we really shouldn't be here—"

"This is really the wrong time to grow a set of balls, Sid." Leng's hand went to the butt of his gun and just hovered there, but the threat was clear as day. "Or have you forgotten what we talked about?"

Shepard was beginning to see who was the real villain here and spared a moment to feel sorry for Sid Lantar. _Oh Sid, you poor dumb bastard, what have you gotten yourself into?_

Shepard glanced up at the attic windows and thought she could see a glint of blue there. She nodded and pointed to the doors. _I'm going in._ The barrel of Garrus' rifle poked out slightly in response. Taking a deep breath, she shoved the big sliding doors open as wide as she could to provide him with the best view and leveled her shotgun at Leng. Sid jumped and couldn't have looked guiltier if he tried, but Leng just looked . . . blank, somehow. Vacant. And that was more frightening than anything.

"Morning, officers. Mind telling me what the fuck you're doing on my property?"

"Miss Shepard," Leng said in that irritating exaggerated drawl of his. "You really shouldn't point that thing at me."

"I'll put it down if you leave right now. This has gone on long enough, Kenny—you need to leave me and my brother alone."

"When you're keeping such interesting things in here?" He ran his hand along the edge of the trailer and smiled. "What are you doing with this, Miss Shepard?"

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Oh, I think it is." He moved closer to her, and the look in his eyes was more alien than any she'd ever seen on Garrus. Shepard held the gun tighter.

"Don't move, Kenny, or I swear to god I'll blow off your knee caps."

"Miss Shepard—Jane—I can't let you do that," said Sid, unsnapping the strap on his holster.

"I don't believe for a second you're in on this, Sid, but if you draw that gun this will not end well for you," Shepard warned, hoping like hell Garrus didn't have an itchy trigger finger. After a tense moment, Sid's hand dropped back down to his side and she breathed a sigh of relief, right before Leng used the distraction to dart forward and wrench her shotgun to the side. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her into the doorway, his grip crushing the wind out of her and his thigh ground hard between her legs to pin her hips.

"You uppity bitch. I ought to—" But he never got to tell her what he ought to do, because at that moment a shot rang out and Leng's calf gave out from under him in a spray of blood and he fell to the floor, screaming in pain. Sid gaped at the wound and backed away with his hands up, looking for the source of the shot.

That was when Garrus came charging into the barn, his rifle aimed at Leng's head. And he was _pissed._

Although Shepard had known what Garrus would look like to other humans—that is, a terrifying alien beast with scales, talons, and teeth—he had never been anything but kind to her and John. In the moment he appeared in the doorway, though, she could appreciate for the first time just how dangerous he really was. His mandibles were flicking fast displaying needle-like teeth, his blue eyes blazed with fury, and the way he moved made it obvious that he was every inch a predator. A small part of her, a primitive part that remembered hunting wild animals in ancient forests, raised its head and met his savagery with its own.

Garrus stowed his rifle on his back and took off his gloves to free his talons. Sid Lantar had backed into the corner and his eyes darted back and forth between Garrus and Shepard. Her lack of reaction to the alien's sudden appearance confirmed his suspicions and he was suddenly very glad his ruse to get both Shepards out of the house didn't work; he had a feeling that her presence was the only thing keeping both of them alive right now.

"Shepard, take Sid's gun." She crouched before Sid and held out a hand, waiting. He just stared at her with wide eyes and didn't move.

She raised her eyebrows and said, "You heard the man, give me your gun."

Sid gaped at her. "You can _understand_ it?" Shepard mentally face-palmed herself; of course, they didn't have translators.

"Yes, it's a long story. Just give me your gun, Sid." He hesitated, then took the pistol from its holster, dumped the bullets into his palm, and handed it over.

"Now come over here and translate for this son-of-a-bitch," Garrus snarled, mostly for Leng's benefit. It was more gratifying than she cared to admit to see that smug look wiped so thoroughly off Leng's face. Shepard stood next to Garrus and when he spoke, echoed his words.

"I should beat you senseless right now. Guys like you aren't worth the air you breathe, but I'm feeling generous today so I'll let you leave here in one piece . . . with a few conditions." They waited for Leng to acknowledge and, after giving Shepard a look that could melt solid rock, nodded. "One—you will never come to this place again, not for any reason. Two—if anyone asks, you accidentally shot yourself while cleaning your gun. Say it back to me."

Leng said nothing, fixing the turian with a defiant glare that was diminished somewhat by the fear that leaked though his every movement. Garrus stomped on his instep and Leng howled in pain.

"Christ, all right! I accidentally shot myself while cleaning my gun."

"Good. Now, don't forget that story because if I find out you've told anyone about me or this—" he gestured to his ship, "—then I'll come find you. And trust me," he said, leaning in close and growling, "I will find you. Are we clear?"

Leng nodded again and Garrus let him go with a shove that sent him sprawling. He hauled himself up with a grimace of pain and hobbled back to the cruiser.

Shepard handed Sid his gun back and he took it, fumbling with the holster's strap with numb fingers. "What will you do now?" she asked.

"I think I've been a cop long enough," he answered with a weak chuckle. "Maybe I'll try my hand at construction or something."

Shepard smiled and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "That sounds like a good idea, Sid."

"He won't just drop it, you know. That guy is . . . there's something wrong with him, Miss Shepard. I know that there are a lot of racist folks 'round here, but Kenny takes it to a whole 'nother level. You be careful, ma'am."

"I will, Sid. Thanks." And, with one last nervous glance to the turian, he left to make sure Leng didn't do anything stupid on the way to the car.

As soon as Sid was out of sight, Garrus went to her and looked her over. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, all traces of anger gone.

"My neck's a little sore and it'll probably hurt like hell tomorrow, but other than that, no." He touched the bruises that were already forming there and had to restrain the urge to go back out there and shoot Leng again, preferably in the chest this time.

"If this is going to cause you any trouble . . ."

"Nah, I should be okay. John has an alibi, and once you're . . ." She had to clear her throat before she was able to say the words. "Once you're gone, there's nothing else to back up his story if he decides to tell the truth—which would be a really stupid thing to do, even for him. I'll probably be investigated, but I've managed to dodge jail before. No reason I shouldn't be able to now."

Garrus allowed himself to relax a little. "Good, because I'd hate to feel bad about shooting that bastard."

She laughed. "Me, too." There was blood spattered on the floor and a few bloody foot prints leading to the door. "I need to clean this up, but first I have to know if whoever is coming to pick you up is going to be homing in on the transmitter. That could make for one hell of an awkward situation to explain to the neighbors, you know."

Garrus froze. "I hadn't given it much thought, but you're right. The woods behind your property seemed to reach pretty far from up above, if I'm remembering right."

"You are; they stretch a good ways out, maybe fifteen miles?"

"That should be enough of a buffer. I can camp out until I'm picked up, but I'll have to go tonight."

"I could come with you," she said, but she knew even before he started shaking his head that it wouldn't work.

"No, if anyone sees us together it could end badly for both of us."

"Have you figured out a way to explain how your ship got into my barn?" she asked, unconsciously stepping closer to touch his arm. His hands slipped around her waist and fidgeted with her shirt. He was really going to miss this, more than he thought he would.

"I'll just tell them you found it and took it before I could stop you. The Hierarchy has rules in place for this sort of thing—giving up tech is permissible, but no physical interaction."

Shepard laughed out loud at that despite the sinking feeling in her chest at the thought of him leaving, or perhaps because of it. Better to laugh than cry. "I'd say we broke the hell out of that rule, cowboy."

His mandibles flared wide and he drew her closer, bending down to her level and nudging her jaw with his mouth. "Yeah, but it was worth it."

"Definitely worth it." She kissed him, a long lingering press of lips to plates that warmed her to her core and made the muscles in her stomach flutter in a way that made her feel lightheaded. Damn, it just wasn't fair—the first time in a decade she had feelings for someone and it had to end like this.

He broke away from her reluctantly and touched her forehead with his own before going back to the house to gather his things. John pulled into the driveway just as Garrus returned to the barn and Shepard waved him over. He took one look at the bag slung over Garrus' shoulder and the look on his sister's face and knew what was going on.

"So, I guess this is goodbye," he said, and shook Garrus' hand.

"Guess so."

"It was really great to meet you, Garrus. I hope your boss doesn't give you a hard time for this."

"I'm more worried about the mountain of paperwork I'm going to have to fill out for wrecking a military ship on an alien planet."

"Bureaucracy's the same everywhere, huh?"

"Yeah, it seems that way."

John pulled him into a tight hug before releasing him with a hearty clap on the shoulder. "You take care of yourself, and remember—you're welcome here anytime you happen to be in the area."

"I'll remember that," Garrus chuckled. He fished around in his bag for a moment and came out with a datapad, which he handed to Shepard. "For you. I've got the code for this one programmed into my omnitool, so I can send you messages."

"Thank you," she whispered. His hand stayed on hers for a second longer, his eyes meeting hers with the knowledge that there wasn't anything left to say. And so it was that, with only one backward glance, Garrus disappeared into the woods. Although he left with much less fanfare than he'd arrived, Shepard felt the impact even more as the blue of his armor faded into the darkening shadows beneath the trees.

John put a steadying hand on her back and said, "Don't worry, sis. He'll be back."

"I hope you're right." Dammit, she refused to cry. Not now. Maybe later when she was alone, but not right now.

"I'm always right." He pulled her tight against his side and she leaned against his solid warmth as they made their way back home.

That night, they watched the sky intently for hours, neither of them saying much. It was well past midnight when a shadow only slightly darker than the sky appeared in the distance and, as it came near, she could see that it was surrounded by a faintly glowing force field. It flew silently into the trees, disappeared for seven minutes and twenty seven seconds, then left just as quickly as it came. Shepard waved, not knowing if Garrus could see her.

His ship was gone by morning, and Shepard tried to get back to business as usual, but the homestead seemed emptier without him in it.


	5. Chapter 5

_EPILOGUE:_

Garrus waited outside the Council's chambers, smoothing down his shirt for the umpteenth time as he waited for them to summon him. His head was spinning with everything he wanted to say, but it was the same speech that had been circulating through his brain for two years. Ever since his request for an audience had been approved a month ago, he had finally allowed himself to hope that he might be able to go back to Earth soon. Sending messages took some of the edge off, but he longed to see Shepard again, to hear her voice. He wondered if she'd let her hair grow out, or if she still liked to wear it up in that red piece of cloth she had the last time he'd seen her.

He was jerked out of his reverie by a turian guard opening the door with an echoing thud. "The Council will see you now."

Garrus stepped inside and took his place at the central podium that had been set up for him and addressed the Council members each in turn.

"Garrus Vakarian, we have received your requests," Councilor Tevos began, "your _numerous_ requests for a review of the human's progress. To be honest, we find your interest in uplifting a land-bound species quite puzzling."

"Indeed," intoned the turian Councilor, Sparatus. "Your commanding officers have noted your academic interest, however your reports carry with them an enthusiasm one would expect from someone personally invested in the decision." He stared down at Garrus with hard eyes.

"I have, in the course of my studies and my work aboard the _Fearless_, grown to appreciate the humans for their many merits. I believe they would make an excellent asset to the galaxy."

The Councilors spoke with him at length, and then amongst themselves. They seemed interested at least, which was more than Garrus had dared to hope for.

"First contact has not yet been established," said Councilor Valern in his usual somewhat dismissive way. "I propose we meet one-on-one with a member of their species to confer with them how best to proceed, should we decide to initiate contact."

"Perhaps one of their dignitaries?" Tevos suggested.

"Perhaps," Sparatus said. "We'd need someone with knowledge of their culture who can gauge the humans' reaction."

"And won't react negatively to the presence of aliens," said Valern.

Garrus tried not to smile too widely as he cleared his throat and got their attention. "If you'll excuse the interruption, Councilors, I think I might know just the person you're looking for."

~End~


End file.
